


sans répit, jour et nuit

by glass_icarus



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-03
Updated: 2009-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glass_icarus/pseuds/glass_icarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's perhaps a bit too early to bring up the prospect of marriage negotiations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sans répit, jour et nuit

"I will NOT!" Merlin jumped as Arthur’s fist slammed down on the table.

"Sire-"

" _Enough_ ," Arthur said around clenched teeth. His jaw worked for a moment- Merlin could see him fighting the urge to drop his head, furious- then he turned abruptly and stalked out of the council hall, ceremonial cloak snapping out behind him.

"Merlin."

"Yes, sire." Merlin shook himself and rose to follow his king, ignoring the royal advisors who flinched as he passed.

Arthur’s back was straight and rigid, even beneath the cloak. Merlin looked at the tense line of his shoulders and prudently said nothing as they made their way back to Arthur’s chambers. The maidservant- Merlin hadn’t been Arthur’s first manservant, but he had been the last- who was assigned to clean them scurried out of their path as he opened the door, closed it firmly behind them.

Arthur blew out a shaking breath, his shoulders slumping as if a string had been cut. "I won’t," he said, as Merlin reached out to undo the clasp of his cloak with practiced fingers. "I won’t."

Merlin looked up at him. Arthur’s eyes were wide and determined. "Sire," he murmured. The heavy cloth fell into his hands; Merlin gestured briefly, sending it to hang properly in Arthur’s wardrobe. He looked up as sword-callused fingers grasped his chin.

"Not sire," Arthur said, insistent. Merlin smiled.

"Arthur." He bent to his task, picking at the laces of Arthur’s council attire until the thick velvet and fine linens slid away to pool, slightly crumpled, in Arthur’s lap.

"My father married for love," Arthur said in a conversational tone, toeing at his boots as Merlin knelt to remove them. "He was faithful to my mother all his life."

"I know."

" _Merlin_. I cannot- I _will_ not- do anything less."

"I know." Merlin swallowed, heart thudding painfully against his ribs. "But I’m not your wife, Arthur."

"I don’t _want_ a wife!" Arthur shouted, his face clouding.

"I know," Merlin whispered. "But Camelot- Albion- needs a queen, and an heir to the throne, and that is more than I can give you."

Arthur made a broken noise, hands clamping tightly on Merlin’s shoulders to haul him toward the bed; Merlin shuddered and reached for him, relaxing into his grip as he always did.

Afterward, tangled together and drowsing in the wreck of the royal bed sheets, Merlin didn’t protest the bruises that flowered on his hips, his arms, his thighs.

"Mine," Arthur whispered, sucking hot, pleading kisses against his neck, "yours."

"Yes," Merlin replied, and twined his fingers firmly into Arthur’s hair. They could talk about it in the morning.


End file.
